


You Come to Me Wild and Wired

by AuroraWest



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cabin Fic, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Love Confessions, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Magic, Marriage, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Stephen Strange, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weddings, just a little ogling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest
Summary: A collection of Froststrange ficlets and drabbles that I (pretty arbitrarily) have decided to stick in one fic, rather than create a separate fic for them. These are likely random things that don't fit into my main fic verse.Ratings and other pertinent information for each entry will be in the notes for that chapter!
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 36
Kudos: 61





	1. cabin in the woods + mutual pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Through a whole series of ridiculous events and circumstances, Loki finds himself stuck in a cabin in the woods with Stephen Strange. Between the romantic firelight and the color of Stephen’s eyes, Loki thinks this might be the most dangerous situation he’s ever been in.
> 
> Rated T
> 
> Tags for this chapter: POV Loki, fluff, mutual pining, cabin fic, romance, not actually unrequited love, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension, mild sexual content, just a little ogling
> 
> I wrote this for a game on the @marveltrumpshate Discord server where you were assigned two random tropes and had to write at least 200 words that combined and used both prominently. I got **cabin in the woods + mutual pining**.
> 
> This also fills my Marvel Fluff Bingo 2021 'mutual pining' square.

Loki watched Stephen throw another log on the fire. Sparks showered, most of them hitting the back wall of the fireplace, but a few of them scattered over the hearth, where they glowed briefly before winking out.

Strange. Not Stephen. Loki needed to think of him as Strange. Calling him Stephen was so…personal. Personal in a dangerous way. Loki preferred the distance of surnames, and he especially preferred them when he was stuck, through a whole series of ridiculous events and circumstances, in a cabin in the woods with Stephen Strange. Sling ring? Oh, that hadn’t been on Strange when they’d ended up in the woods, unbroken trees stretching as far as the eye could see. _Tremendous_ look for the Sorcerer Supreme. Really impressive.

At least they’d found the cabin. It was shelter for the night. Loki had reached the door first, tried the doorknob, and surreptitiously unlocked it with magic, pretending that it had been already been open.

“We don’t even have to break in,” Loki had said. Strange had looked at him like he’d known exactly what Loki had just done. He didn’t argue, though. That was one of the nice things about Strange. He had scruples, of course. But he was willing to let them slide when the moment called for it.

The inside was furnished, barely. It was one room. There was a small table and a bed, plus some sort of primitive shower contraption rigged up in one corner. Firewood was piled up next to the fireplace and some minor investigation outside revealed more there. This investigation also revealed an outhouse, which was _charming_.

Loki had started a fire and Strange had said he was going to attempt to wash some of the grime off him. No argument from Loki on that—Strange had tripped and slid down a muddy ravine, and he was filthy. It hadn’t been funny at the time, as Loki had clambered down the steep hill after him, hoping Stephen wasn’t hurt. But Stephen had been fine.

At _that_ point, with Stephen picking clods of mud out of his hair, spitting out a mouthful of dirt, but clearly unhurt—physically, at least, as his pride had taken a beating—it had become funny.

It turned out the shower actually had running water, though Stephen yelped when he first stepped under it. That had made Loki turn around and ask, “What are you—”

Stephen had been naked. Completely naked. He was turned so that Loki could see him from the side, which meant Loki could see pretty much everything in profile. And one of Stephen’s arms was raised to aim the “shower head” (it was nothing but a pipe) away from himself. Water was running down him, following the curves and dips of his muscles. He actually had some. His physique was—

Heat had flooded Loki’s body and he’d busied himself with the fire, which didn’t need his attention. That was when he’d decided he really needed to stop thinking of Stephen as Stephen and confine himself to thinking of him as Strange.

He’d already been desperately attracted to the man. This—this whole _situation_ , and now seeing Stephen, er, Strange, naked, was not helping.

“The water’s freezing,” Strange had informed Loki once he was done with his shower. He’d draped himself in a blanket and sat on the floor next to Loki.

This was something Loki had surmised for himself, based on the view he’d gotten of Stephen and the fact that a certain part of his anatomy had appeared rather shrunken.

And now they were sitting there in the dark, only the fire lighting the cabin. Stephen— _Strange_ —was naked under that blanket. This fact sat at the front of Loki’s consciousness. It wouldn’t leave him alone.

“I can’t decide if this is a scene out of a horror movie or not,” Strange said, drawing the blanket around himself.

There had been a point when Loki wouldn’t have understood this joke. He’d spent enough time on Earth now—and enough time around Stephen specifically, who loved to say this kind of thing—that he laughed quietly. “Which one of us would be killed first?”

“Hm.” Stephen breathed in, looking as though he was giving this question far more consideration than it deserved. “Which one of us got top billing in the opening credits?”

“Me, obviously,” Loki replied.

With a wave of his hand, Strange said, “You get offed, then. People won’t expect the big star to get killed first.”

Wrinkling his nose, Loki said, “That’s not fair.”

Stephen looked at him, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “Maybe you’re not really dead, and in a big twist, you come back at the end and save me.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d save you,” Loki said.

Firelight flickered on Stephen’s face. Norns, you could cut yourself on those cheekbones. Something caught in Loki’s chest and he looked away before he could note the color of Stephen’s eyes—which looked like sea glass, clear and light and crystal.

Too late.

“I think you would,” Stephen said. Strange. _Strange_ said.

“I wouldn’t,” Loki shot back.

The fire spit again. Loki shifted. The movement brought him closer to Strange without quite meaning to. Or perhaps he did mean to? Whenever the two of them spent time together, Loki ended up thinking too much and confusing himself.

Stephen’s blanket was slipping a bit. It was exposing his shoulders, and Loki couldn’t help letting his eyes linger. Close-up, they looked strong, especially considering Stephen was—what, forty-five? Something like that. Not young. Not old, either, but certainly not young. There were freckles strewn across them.

Oh. Loki had always had a weakness for freckles.

Combined with his weakness for goatees, for cheekbones, and for sarcastic, funny, intelligent people, Loki was beginning to think that this cabin, with its one bed and its romantic firelight, was the most dangerous situation he’d ever been in.

His heart was beating faster. When his gaze flicked back up to Stephen’s, it was to find Stephen watching him. There was a look in his eyes that kicked Loki’s heart rate from merely _rapid_ to _hammering_. It might have been more accurate if Stephen had said this reminded him of a romance rather than a horror movie. Though Loki would be the first to admit that being alone with him was fairly horrific.

Stephen’s hand had drifted to his side, and now only centimeters separated it from Loki’s. If Loki were to move his fingers, he could hook them into Stephen’s with no effort. He could take Stephen’s trembling hand in his and press their palms together.

Except—why would he do that?

Alright, so, yes, there was the way the mere mention of Stephen Strange’s name made fluttery heat bloom in his stomach, the way his heart beat faster when they saw each other. There was the fact that of all the humans Loki had met, Stephen was the only one he wanted to spend hours and hours with, the only one whom he regretted parting from, even though he pretended he didn’t. There were few people, full stop, that Loki regretted seeing the back of. But he always felt a twinge of longing when Stephen and he went their separate ways.

There was the way Stephen made Loki laugh. And there was the way Stephen looked at him.

There was the way Stephen was looking at him now.

Loki pressed his lips together and got to his feet, walking away from the fire. Away from the glow of the flames, it was cold. “We’ve almost burned all the wood,” Loki said. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t decide if he’d just done the exact right thing—or the exact wrong one. “I’ll go outside and get some more.”

The silence behind him made him loathe himself, and that was saying something, considering how much he already hated himself. Was he doing what was right for both of them? No good could come of there being anything between them.

Or was he wrong? Was he the worst kind of coward, telling himself thin, idiotic lies so he didn’t have to face the pain of vulnerability and rejection? Or worse—the prospect that he wouldn’t be rejected at all, but that time would eventually take away something that was so beautiful that Loki couldn’t bear to look at the possibility.

The fire crackled. “Thanks,” Stephen finally said. There was a note of resignation to his voice. At one point, Loki might not have picked up on it. But he knew Stephen now. It hurt. It was getting harder to lie to himself.

Loki nodded and went to open the door. His fingers closed around the doorknob, but then he hesitated. “Stephen,” he said, turning around. When Stephen looked at him, Loki hesitated, then said, “I would come back and save you.”

A small, lopsided smile flickered across Stephen’s face. His eyes still looked like sea glass. “I know you would, Loki.”


	2. Flash Fiction Friday #88: At First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Flash Fiction Friday #88 At First Sight.
> 
> Summary: It's not really love at first sight when Stephen and Loki meet, but it's definitely something.
> 
> Rated T
> 
> Tags for this chapter: POV Stephen Strange, fluff, romance, mild sexual content, just a little ogling, lust at first sight, first meetings
> 
> This one _does_ fit into my main verse.

Someday, Stephen’s going to tell this story like it was love at first sight. _Yeah I could tell from the way he pulled out those knives that he was looking to stick something in me—_ well, sexual innuendo, et cetera, et cetera.

He’ll only tell it that way to make Loki laugh and roll his eyes, and he’ll only tell it that way in _front_ of Loki, because otherwise it’s kind of skeevy.

But now? Now, he’s staring at one very pissed off God of Mischief, who he’s just dropped onto the floor of the Sanctum’s foyer from a height of about twenty feet. Loki’s not hurt—not physically. Stephen’s not a big fan of hurting people. Tries to avoid it if there’s any other way. But he doesn’t have any scruples about wounding people’s pride—in fact, he kind of enjoys it. And it’s pretty clear that Loki of Asgard’s pride is battered as he whips his hair out of his face and growls, “I have been falling…for _thirty minutes!_ ”

“You can handle it from here,” Stephen says to Thor, who looks really entertained by all of this. Guy just smashed up Stephen’s house with his magic hammer, so that tracks.

It’s about then that Stephen notices—well, Loki of Asgard, the God of Mischief, troublemaker extraordinaire who has a top five spot on Stephen’s list of possible threats to Earth—Loki has a great ass.

Like, a _really_ great ass.

It’s a good thing that Stephen has every reason to be staring at Loki, because he can pretend he’s not checking the guy out.

But holy shit. When was the last time Stephen looked at a guy, or anyone, actually, and had to catch his breath at how gorgeous they were? It wasn’t that way with Christine, not that she’s not beautiful.

Loki is on a whole other level. His hair looks like it could stand a shampoo, but from what Odin told Stephen, Loki’s been glamoring himself to look like his father for four years. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to wash his hair much. Even so, there’s something about the way it falls over his shoulders, raven-black and loose curls, that makes Stephen’s stomach flip over. Loki’s face is beautiful. Cheekbones to die for. He’s got this regality to him. He’s tall and lean, but broad enough through the shoulders. Stephen likes tall men.

And Stephen has to stop himself there, because Loki’s eyes are flashing with rage. He draws two knives out of nowhere and demands, “Who are you?”

“Loki…” Thor says, raising a hand. Stephen has never seen anyone try less hard to stop a murder.

Loki ignores his brother entirely. His eyes are locked on Stephen’s. Are they blue? Stephen thinks they might be blue, but it’s hard to tell from here. “Some kind of sorcerer?” Loki asks, a sneer in his voice. “I’ll show you, you second rate ama—”

With this, Loki lunges towards him, and though there are probably plenty of people in Stephen’s life who would tell him his sense of self-preservation is somewhat lacking, he _does_ have the good sense not to let Loki get anywhere near him with those knives. “Alright, buh-bye,” Stephen says, and pushes the portal he’s already got open towards both Asgardians. As soon as they’re through it, he closes it.

Sparks scatter across the floor of the Sanctum. He knows he should feel vindicated about sticking Loki in that thirty minute fall. And pissed about the fact that Loki came after him. What does Loki seriously expect? The guy tried to take over Earth. He tore up Midtown Manhattan five years ago.

But instead, Stephen’s invigorated by the interaction. He kind of wishes he’d found some way to bring Thor _and_ Loki here, so he could have talked to both of them. How was he supposed to know, though? How was he supposed to know he was going to look at Loki and…hell. Is this lust at first sight? Loki was incandescent, sputtering with rage. But Stephen would have liked to see him…well, _not_ infuriated.

This is all totally inappropriate. It’s not going to stop him from thinking about how hot Loki is. It’s not going to stop him from falling in love with Loki later. It’s not at first sight. Or maybe it is. Maybe Stephen’s rewriting history if he says that…but he ends up with Loki, and Loki’s big on rewriting things. Rewriting things for himself, slogging through the middle part where you don’t know where you’re going with it, and you think about abandoning the whole thing. But Loki doesn’t, and that’s really why Stephen falls for him. He has a great ass, but it's his resilience, and his humor, and his biting intelligence, and his heart that he doesn’t want to admit he has—it’s all of that stuff that means Stephen can’t do anything _but_ fall in love with him.

So when they tell the story of how they fell in love, Loki usually shrugs and says, “I didn’t even know it was happening.”

“It was when you turned around and saw me for the first time,” Stephen says, even if it’s not true. They both know a good story when they see one.

Loki smiles, sharp and acerbic, and Stephen’s stomach flips over like it always has. “Right,” Loki says. “When I tried to kill you.”

Stephen catches his eyes. He was right, all those years ago, about them being blue. They’re the prettiest blue Stephen’s ever seen. “Yeah well, I’ve never been with anyone who _didn’t_ want to kill me.”

“Good thing I can handle you, Strange,” Loki says lazily.

There’s nothing Stephen can do except grin crookedly and interlace his fingers with Loki’s. So maybe it wasn’t love at first sight. It was _something_. Knowing-you’ve-just-met-someone-important at first sight. Meeting-your-match at first sight.

Whatever it was—it’s a great story.


	3. Flash Fiction Friday #89: Dipped in Silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Flash Fiction Friday #89: Dipped in Silver.
> 
> Summary: Everyone else on Earth seems to think Loki's out to conquer the planet. Not Stephen Strange.
> 
> Rated G
> 
> Tags for this chapter: POV Loki, fluff, romance, magic, falling in love

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Not at all.”

“I thought your magic was less…”

Strange hesitated. Loki raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be diplomatic?” Loki drawled. “I’m not sure it suits you.”

With a lopsided grin, Strange said, “Uh huh, noted. I’ll try to be more of an asshole.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be much of a challenge for you,” Loki said.

Strange’s grin got more crooked. Loki’s stomach flipped over. Stupid. The _last_ person who should give him butterflies was a human wizard who was an arrogant know-it-all and a show-off.

But Strange was also very smart. Very handsome. Very funny. His eyes, neither blue nor green, that sparked with humor and intelligence and quickness, the crow’s feet at their corners; the sharp meticulousness of his goatee; his dry sarcasm, his jokes that startled Loki into laughing, his cleverness—it all drew Loki in.

And he liked working with Loki, when the rest of the planet was mostly suspicious of him.

Alright. Fine. So perhaps, _perhaps_ , Loki had a…a _thing_ for Stephen Strange. Everyone seemed to think he was plotting to conquer Earth. Strange invited him to New York, welcomed him into the Sanctum, often with something vague, like, “I read about a spell that I want to try; thought you might be interested.”

That made it sound as though Loki looked at Strange the way he did because he was desperate for a morsel of affection or trust. That wasn’t it. That was the thing. Even if the rest of Midgard loved Loki, there would still be something special about Stephen Strange.

Stupid.

Stephen held up the sprig of rosemary. “Dipping this in silver. Huh.”

“Yes.”

“That sounds way more like alchemy than what you usually do.”

Loki shrugged. “It’s an old spell.”

Rosemary for protection, silver for perseverance. The Sanctum had recently seen incursions from—well, that was the problem. Strange and Wong didn’t know _what_ was getting in. None of their spells were keeping it out. So Stephen had texted Loki to see if he had any advice, and Loki had said they could try something his mother had once taught him. It _wasn’t_ like the magic Loki usually did; Stephen was right. But ancient magic contained deep wells of power. Frigga had taught Loki to respect that when _he_ had scoffed.

Stephen glanced at the alembic sitting on the floor between them. Molten silver was pooled inside the still. “You want to do the honors?” he asked.

Loki shook his head. “You should do it. The spell will be more powerful.”

A smile twitched at Strange’s mouth. “Did I really just hear you acknowledge that I’m capable of doing more powerful magic than you?”

“You heard me acknowledge that in order for _this_ particular spell to be at its most potent, the person whose home needs protection should perform the most significant portion of the ritual,” Loki retorted. Strange’s smile twitched wider. Butterflies fluttered in Loki’s stomach again.

Pushing the feeling away, Loki cast a cooling spell, then lifted the lid of the still. Vapor rose. A shining bubble slowly formed on the surface of the molten silver before popping with a splatter.

Stephen dipped the rosemary into the silver, withdrawing it once it was coated. It gleamed in the light. Could Stephen feel its power? The spell was nascent, only possibility, but it was there, vibrating at a frequency that had always been Loki’s special province. Was it Strange’s, too?

“This feels weird,” Stephen said. Loki felt a lurch in his gut. He _could_ feel it. Why did that seem so significant? Strange’s eyes met Loki’s over the shining, silvery rosemary. “So now what?”

Loki cleared his throat and focused. “Once the silver has hardened fully, we’ll break off the leaves and place them around the Sanctum at entrances. Doorways get more leaves. And doorways aren’t always the obvious ones. You should consider all the ways something might gain access to this place.” When Strange nodded, Loki added, “They might be more metaphorical than physical.”

“I get it,” Strange said.

Loki’s eyes went back to the rosemary. It wasn’t _just_ for protection. It was also an herb associated with…love. At Midsummer, Asgardian maidens gave out sprigs of rosemary to the objects of their affection. There were spells one could cast, though Loki would never dream of doing so. The idea of someone loving him romantically was laughable—and he wasn’t cruel enough to magick such a thing into being. No one deserved that.

It was good that Strange didn’t know that part about rosemary. Considering the amount of time they spent together…considering the way their bantering could be taken for flirting…considering the way Stephen had definitely caught Loki watching him, it was just…well, it was better that the amorous associations of rosemary remained unknown to him.

It didn’t take long for the silver to harden. When it did, Stephen climbed to his feet. Loki followed. “So,” Stephen said, “metaphorical ways into the Sanctum, huh?” He was giving Loki a very direct, frank look.

Loki nodded. “Yes.”

“So like…” Stephen broke an piece of rosemary off the sprig and stuck it in the pocket of his cardigan, right over his heart. “…something like this?”

Loki stared at it, gleaming brightly against the gray cardigan, then met Stephen’s eyes. “Do you worry your heart is a weakness?” he asked.

Stephen mumbled something that sounded like, “I didn’t think that through.” He pulled the rosemary from his pocket and gave Loki that lopsided smile; that crooked tug at his lips that made Loki’s stomach turn inside out. “Definitely not a weakness,” Stephen said. “Wide open, actually, if the right person wants to take his shot at it.”

The smile spreading over Loki’s face felt a bit like silver, gleaming and bright. Instead of answering, he said, “We should finish the spell.” But as he moved past Stephen, their fingers brushed.

There was a spark. Metaphorical, of course. A frequency just between them. Nascent.

Full of possibility. 


	4. Flash Fiction Friday #90: Mirror Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Flash Fiction Friday #90: Mirror Image.
> 
> Summary: Nothing is going right with this mission. But even by those standards, getting stuck sharing a bed in a motel room with a mirror mounted on the ceiling is pretty bad.
> 
> Rated M
> 
> Tags for this chapter: POV Loki, sexual content, fluff, falling in love, love confession, sexual tension, resolved sexual tension, sharing a bed

There were numerous reasons Loki was less than thrilled about the current situation.

This mission was annoying. It should have been simple, but for weeks they’d been chasing some minor necromancer who was in thrall to Mephisto, a chase which had led them to a town with one motel whose best days were behind it—so far behind it that they were lost to view. Said motel had had two vacant rooms, but when Loki settled in for the night, his neighbors had decided to have a party. Or an orgy. Or a football match. He wasn’t sure, but it was loud, and after thirty minutes of burying his head under his pillow, he gave up, got dressed, and trekked to the other side of the motel to Stephen Strange’s room.

Strange hadn’t even hesitated before he’d said, “Yeah, you can sleep here.” Of course he hadn’t hesitated. He was always decent when it came down to it, even if he was sharp and acerbic and sarcastic. When it mattered, he unwaveringly did the right thing.

But then, Strange had glanced over his shoulder. “As long as you’re okay with the fact that, uh…”

“That there’s only one bed?” Loki had sighed. “I suppose I have to be. Just don’t get…familiar.”

Which led him to what was, probably, the least thrilling thing of all: he was sharing a bed with Stephen Strange, and there was a mirror on the ceiling.

Loki couldn’t stop staring at it, at the image of the two of them, side by side. In bed. Strange had answered the door in nothing but his underwear—he’d had the chain on the door and only opened it a crack until he saw that it was Loki outside, and Loki…well, look, the thing was, Loki was hardly _blind_ , was he? When an attractive man answered the door wearing almost nothing, it was hard _not_ to look. Especially considering Stephen was an attractive man whom Loki was personally attracted to.

Strange had gotten dressed after he’d let Loki in, so they were both fully clothed in the one bed. The one bed with the mirror mounted directly above it.

The problem wasn’t so much that Loki was sharing the bed with Stephen. It was more that they were in the same bed—and they were both fully clothed and carefully maintaining a zero-contact policy.

“I’ve never understood the appeal of this,” Loki said.

It was impossible not to notice the fact that Strange had been trying to avoid looking at the mirror. Since Loki couldn’t keep his eyes off it, he’d seen Strange’s every attempt—the averted eyes, the gaze that went the long way around Loki, the carefully timed blinks. But at this, Strange met his eyes in the reflection. His brow furrowed, and then he turned on his side to face Loki. “Sleeping in the same bed? Well, when two people love each other very much—”

Loki couldn’t stop himself from turning red. “Shut up, I didn’t mean—I don’t love you, anyway, we’re just—” Colleagues? Right. When Stephen had pulled his shirt over his head and put his pants back on, Loki hadn’t even bothered to push down his disappointment.

Stephen grinned and Loki turned to face him, so he caught the full force of the smile, the way Stephen’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and how they were this beautiful shift of color from blue to green. The crookedness of Stephen’s smile had been the thing that had convinced Loki to pair off with him when Sam Wilson had first come up with the idea of these mission teams. “That is, if you can forgive me for the whole falling-for-thirty-minutes thing,” Strange had said, a tug at the corner of his lips. Loki hadn’t wanted to, but there was something about the slyness of that smile that he couldn’t resist. It was like a mirror image of his own.

“Not to get too personal, but…you’ve never had sex in front of a mirror?” Stephen asked.

This didn’t help the flush in Loki’s face. “I have, for your information. That’s why I don’t understand the appeal.” He glanced up again. An image flickered through his mind, of what it would look like if he reached for Stephen in the reflection, what it would look like if their mouths met, and Loki brushed his fingers through Stephen’s hair; the piece that flopped over his forehead, the gray at his temples.

What would have happened if Strange hadn’t put his clothes back on?

A pointless question. Stephen was a gentleman through and through. Nothing would have happened, except Loki would have laid in this bed vibrating with the knowledge that he was inches from the mostly naked body of a man he was extremely attracted to.

Actually, it was far worse than that. He feared that he might…possibly…sort of…somewhere along the line…have fallen wildly in love with Stephen Strange.

“It was bad sex,” Loki clarified. He couldn’t believe he was saying it. He preferred not to talk about his past sexual encounters. Most of them were bad, actually. “Being able to see it reflected back at me didn’t improve the experience.”

Stephen didn’t look at a loss for words, exactly—more that he was choosing his words carefully. “Sorry if this is like…crossing a line,” he began, which meant it most certainly would be. “But…do you, like…”

Loki waited. He had just noticed there were a few gray hairs in Stephen’s goatee. It made him more attractive.

Finally, Stephen just shrugged and finished, “Have you sworn off?”

“Sworn off?”

“Women. Or…men…?”

With a slight smile, Loki said, “Both.”

“Oh.”

Was that disappointment on Stephen’s face? Oh—shit. “I mean,” Loki said hastily, “that I’m interested in both women and men. No, I haven’t sworn off—though it’s been awhile—I just haven’t—” He sounded like a fool, stammering and blushing. Or perhaps more like an adolescent. With a deep breath, he said, “I can’t quite believe I’m having this conversation in a bed with a mirror mounted above it.”

Stephen laughed. There was a relieved note to it. Interesting. “I wish I could say this was the first motel room I’ve stayed at with a mirror on the ceiling.” His eyes held Loki’s. “We can stop talking about this, though. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I…” Why did Loki feel the need to apologize? “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

At this, Stephen’s eyebrows went up. “What? Getting crammed into one motel bed with your mission partner, knowing you’re in the room that gets rented out by the hour?”

“Er.” Loki wasn’t sure exactly what he’d meant, if he was honest. Probably not that. There was a twinkle in Stephen’s eye. It made Loki’s heart beat faster. Suddenly, the mirror image of them on the ceiling seemed impossible to look at. This bed was small, and they were close together, but Loki knew if he looked at their reflection, he would wish that even the small space between them was nonexistent.

Stephen had just called them ‘mission partners.’ Which meant it was an unfortunate time to notice how good Stephen smelled.

With another mildly chagrined smile, Stephen said, “Sorry. I’m actually not even trying to give you a hard time.”

“For once,” Loki said, smiling slightly.

“Well, you’re cute when you get flustered.”

“Cute?”

Nervousness flitted through Stephen’s eyes. Had he meant to say that? “Too familiar?” he asked, his tone so outrageously nonchalant that Loki knew he was panicking.

“Very much so,” Loki said. He smiled. “But I’ll allow it.”

His heart was thudding so loudly that Stephen must have been able to hear it. How had this gone from the two of them sharing a bed out of necessity, fully-clothed, to…whatever was happening here? Stephen calling him cute, and looking at him with a hesitant question in his eyes?

Loki swallowed hard. “Stephen,” he said. “Would you consider me terribly out of line if I said that…perhaps…I might like a bit more familiarity?”

Stephen drew in a sharp breath, but his eyes lit up. “Really out of line,” Stephen said. “We’re coworkers. That’s always a bad idea.” Before Loki could sink through the mattress in mortification, Stephen added, his voice lower, with an eagerness but also, simultaneously, a gentleness to it, “But some of my worst ideas have turned into great things for me.”

He should stop. He should pretend he hadn’t said anything. He should just…act like he’d suddenly fallen asleep.

“I like working with you,” Loki blurted. A smile spread across Stephen’s face. That was encouraging enough for Loki to keep going. “Very much. I’d like…” He glanced up at the mirror despite himself. The two of them looked completely natural lying next to each other, as though it was meant to be. “May I…” he tried again, but his throat froze. What was he even trying to say? _May I kiss you?_

But Stephen said, “Yes. Please. Whatever you’re asking—yes.”

Loki’s body prickled. He didn’t hesitate any longer. His heart pounding, he shifted forward—and kissed Stephen.

Stephen’s lips felt as soft as they looked. Loki had always thought he’d be a good kisser. As it turned out, he hadn’t been quite right about that.

Actually, Stephen was an _incredible_ kisser. He made a quiet noise as their mouths met, and his kiss was slow, a smoldering heat behind it that was a match for Loki’s own. This could turn into more than a kiss with little urging, and the thought made desire throb low in Loki’s gut.

Then, he remembered the mirror on the ceiling.

And quite unromantically, he burst out laughing.

Stephen pulled away, looking wounded, but Loki immediately put his hands on the sides of Stephen’s face. He didn’t even think about it, he just _did_ it, and it felt so natural and perfect, and he’d thought so many times about feeling Stephen’s beard against his palms and now it was just happening. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to giggle like an idiot. “The mirror.”

At this, Stephen snorted with laughter, as well. Suddenly, both of them were in hysterics, gasping for air. Stephen’s hand wound up on Loki’s hip as he steadied himself, Loki’s arm looped around Stephen’s back—and then they were kissing again, harder than before, mouths open, hands on waists, hips, backs. Loki’s palms slid up Stephen’s ribs, then over his chest, and Stephen breathed, “How familiar do you want to get?”

Loki tried not to moan at the suggestion in the words. “That depends.”

“On?”

Was he really going to say this? Yes, he was going to say this. With a deep breath, Loki said, “On how confident you are about giving me a good experience with a ceiling mirror.”

The smile Stephen gave him made Loki’s entire body ache. “I’m pretty confident that I can make you understand _exactly_ what the appeal is of them,” Stephen said, a growl to his tone.

“Well, then.” Loki’s fingers wandered down Stephen’s front to the waistband of his pants, where he paused. Stephen nodded. Loki popped the button open, pulled the zipper down slowly, and said, “I suggest you get started. I think you’ll find that I’m _very_ hard to convince…” Allowing a wolfish grin to flicker over his face, he added, “It may take all night.”

Stephen covered Loki’s body with his, and one roll of his hips told Loki how agreeable this idea was. “What if it took all morning, too?”

Running his fingers lightly from Stephen’s shoulders to his back, and then down to his arse, Loki said, “Then I would admire your thoroughness.”

As Stephen lowered his head to kiss Loki’s neck, he murmured, “I’ll be as thorough as you want me to.” The feel of his lips made Loki shiver. “I’ll do anything you want me to.” When Loki made a helpless noise, Stephen echoed it. His mouth on Loki’s neck was turning Loki’s whole body molten. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Stephen breathed.

Loki had a vague idea. He was beginning to think Stephen had wanted it just as long as he had. And Loki couldn’t help wondering if he hadn’t wanted it since the first time Stephen had given him that crooked, sly smile. At the time, Loki had thought they really _were_ mirror images of each other: sorcerers, one who had always chosen to do the right thing, while Loki had taken some prompting; scarred, both tortured by the Black Order.

Now Loki knew that they weren’t reflections of each other. They were something much better: two pieces that fit together despite their scars and differences, two people that brought something irreplaceable to the other.

Not to mention, Stephen’s body on top of Loki’s felt amazing. The things he was doing with his lips didn’t seem fair. The only possible response to _I’ll do whatever you want_ when Stephen was kissing and sucking on his neck like that was _I want you to do anything and everything to me._

Or possibly: _Be with me, because somehow I fell in love with you_.

The absurdity of the setting hit him all over again—the seedy motel, the mirror on the ceiling. Loki closed his eyes and buried his fingers in Stephen’s hair. “Are you sure you want it here?” Loki asked. “This isn’t a very good place for the beginning of a love story.”

The words were out of his mouth before he thought about them. His eyes shot open and his whole body stiffened with horror. Stephen raised his head, his eyebrows high, his gaze locked on Loki’s. Loki desperately wanted to say something else, make light of this, brush it off, but his mouth had gone completely dry. There was being too familiar…and then there was what he’d just said.

But Stephen smiled. The brightness and the blinding happiness of it seemed to do some sort of magic, though Loki knew he hadn’t cast a spell. Suddenly, their surroundings didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the man he was holding against him. “Maybe it’s not a great place for the beginning of a love story,” Stephen said musingly. One of his hands brushed through Loki’s hair, his trembling fingers catching in Loki’s curls. “Except I fell in love with you a long time ago. So this isn’t the beginning at all.”

These words hung in the air. Stephen took a breath and held it.

Loki’s eyes flicked to the mirror. The expression on his own face startled him. It was open, and happy, and…

He put his hands on Stephen’s face and drew him close to kiss him. “That works out, then,” Loki said. Their kiss grew deeper and Loki pulled Stephen’s shirt over his head, running his hands over Stephen’s bare skin, stomach to chest, tracing his fingers over Stephen’s ribs, catching them in the line of hair that led from his navel to his crotch. Those unzipped pants were calling to him.

Before they got down to it, though, Loki broke away and said, “I might not mention the mirror when I tell people about this.”

“Okay.”

Stephen’s hands were toying with the closure of Loki’s pants, so Loki arched his hips as encouragement. When Stephen still hesitated, Loki breathed, “Take them off. Take it all off.”

The enthusiasm with which Stephen followed this order made Loki salivate. Stephen undressed him, his eyes lingering on each new part of Loki’s body that he uncovered. When he pulled Loki’s underwear off, he couldn’t suppress his groan. His hands slid up Loki’s thighs, settling on his hips, and he started to bend over. But Loki said, “Your clothes, too.”

With a grin, Stephen said, “You drive a hard bargain.” He licked his lips, looked down once more, but didn’t argue, rolling off the bed and dropping his pants and underwear around his ankles. When he stepped out of them, he gave Loki the most magnificent view of his whole life.

The two of them looked at each other, both taking in the other’s body. Loki knew that once he pulled Stephen’s naked skin against his, he wouldn’t be able to get another coherent word out, except probably gasped requests for Stephen to do more of what he was doing. So he smiled crookedly and said, “I’m also probably going to make this place into a Radisson when I tell the story.”

Stephen laughed and Loki’s body thrummed. Loki held out a hand. Dimly, he was aware of his reflection in the mirror, but he only had eyes for the man standing in front of him.

And then Stephen came to him, and there was nothing else to think about.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Flash Fiction Friday #91: Main Attraction.
> 
> Summary: Someday, Stephen and Loki are going to laugh at the absolute lunacy that went down at their wedding.
> 
> Rated T
> 
> Tags for this chapter: POV Stephen Strange, fluff, established relationship, wedding, marriage

Stephen’s used to the main attraction being the Moment of the wedding where the officiant says, _I now pronounce you husband and wife_. In the lead-up to his own wedding—something he never in a million years thought he’d actually be doing—he wonders what his old friends from college, from med school, would think if they could see him now. He was out in college, but there was always this kind of…well, look, Stephen still doesn’t know many bi guys, and back then, he knew even fewer, and it seemed like most of the girls that he knew who were out as bi ended up with guys. Statistics. Probably the pull of society’s expectations, too. He’s pretty sure all his friends expected him to end up with a woman eventually.

He wonders what his parents would think. His mom died years ago; he never came out to her. His dad—well, his dad met Loki, but Dad had Alzheimer’s. Had it since the late 90s. Stephen never knew from one visit to the next if Dad would know who he was, let alone that he was bi, that yeah, he dated men, yeah-by-date-I-mean-have-sex-with; Christ, Dad, yeah, in the butt. He introduced Loki to Dad when they first started dating and… It was weird, but things almost seemed to get…better. Dad still forgot most things, but he knew Loki, would always say, _There’s the alien who makes Stevie happy!_

(The first time Dad says this, Stephen can tell it’s pretty much everything Loki can do not to laugh. _Stevie?_ he mouths, but he never actually tries his luck at using the nickname)

Maybe Dad would have been okay with this. The _I now pronounce you husband and husband_ part. Donna would have been thrilled, Stephen knows that—Donna would have loved Loki. She would have thought she hit the brother-in-law jackpot.

Loki and him kiss when the judge says the words. They already did the big Asgardian wedding, or at least—well, they tried, that’s the important thing. The effort was what counted, even if it turned out to be a disaster in the end. It would be something they’d laugh about later. 

Stephen says that after they’re officially married in the courthouse. They were supposed to have a honeymoon, but…they’ll figure that out. So they’re spending the night at the Sanctum. They’re both exhausted. Stephen has a cut over his eyebrow and a black eye. Loki’s lip is split. Stephen explained who they were when he was getting the marriage license, and why they needed it for like, this afternoon.

The clerk looked star-struck, so clearly he knew who they were, and fast-tracked them for the judicial waiver that they needed to get out of the twenty-four hour waiting period. The judge seemed pretty thrilled that she was officiating the marriage of Loki Odinson and Stephen Strange. She asked for their autographs. Loki said she could have a copy of the marriage certificate if she wanted.

Anyway, when Stephen says, “We’re going to laugh about this one day. Seriously,” Loki just looks at him and flops down in bed.

Loki stares at the ceiling, twisting his engagement ring around his finger. Their wedding rings haven’t been found yet. They’ll probably just have to get new ones made. “I could probably be persuaded to laugh at the sight of you getting tangled in your Asgardian wedding regalia,” Loki finally says, looking at Stephen.

“That’s the spirit,” Stephen says dryly as he sits next to Loki on the bed. The mattress depresses and he flinches as pain shoots through his side. He thinks he might have a cracked rib.

A smile twitches at Loki’s mouth, but he presses his lips together and forces it down.

Nice of him. But he has a point. Stephen’s not convinced he didn’t crack the rib when he tripped over his longcoat and fell on his face. He’s lucky he didn’t break his wrist. “It’s pretty funny that your goat ate our wedding rings, too.”

Loki winces. “I shouldn’t have let Thor convince me it was a good idea to include a goat in the wedding.”

“Convince you? Yeah right. You were probably gunning for it all along. You love that goat.”

“Billie’s very smart,” Loki says.

“Maybe she was getting revenge, since your original plan was to serve her at the wedding feast.”

“I’m not sure she’s _that_ smart,” Loki says.

There’s a silence. Then Stephen says, “Goat grudge.”

It’s stupid. Loki snorts. Stephen can’t help chuckling.

“The alien invasion was probably worse,” Stephen admits.

Wrinkling his nose, Loki replies, “I don’t know, alien invasions on Earth are rather a dime a dozen. I can think of at _least_ two other weddings that have been interrupted by that sort of thing. But when was the last time you were at a wedding where the ring-bearer ate the rings?”

His face straight, Stephen says, “I had this one cousin—”

But he doesn’t even get through the sentence—which is a lie; he’s never been to a wedding where the ring-bearer ate the rings, or where the ring-bearer was a goat, for that matter—because suddenly, Loki cracks up. Stephen grins.

And then the two of them lose it, howling, gaspingly recounting the absolute lunacy that was their wedding, and Stephen’s in absolute agony from that cracked rib but he doesn’t care, because his arms go around Loki, and Loki pulls him close, and the two of them are kissing and laughing and Loki’s fingers are in his hair and he’s whispering _I love you, I love you._

That’s the main attraction. The wedding, the vows, the feast, the pageantry, the _you may kiss each other_ —that stuff would have been great. But it’s this, _this_ that matters, Loki’s arms around him, mouths on each other’s, _till death do us part_ official.

When the judge said those words, Loki looked Stephen in the eye, held it, and mouthed, _Longer._

What more could Stephen want than that?


End file.
